A reminder: hugs are free
Upfront PSA: The number of you who corrected me that asparagus is not a cruciferous brassica can only be measured in scientific notation. Sorry about that; this publication regrets the error. I continue to believe that 425º is a good temperature.
When I was six years old, my parents got me something for the holidays that I firmly rejected, because I have always been like this. My smile disappeared, I told them “I don’t want this,” I put the object down, and I stared at them. I don’t even remember what they got me, but I will never forget my reaction. I have spent over three decades healing my inner child so that I may do one thing only: appear to look grateful when you get me something I don’t need.
I am, rather famously, the worst gift receiver of all time. There are many reasons for this, but also it’s perhaps worth noting that I run a lowkey anti-consumerist newsletter and very much do not need new things. I am someone who once wrote a viral essay called “Conference Swag is a Scourge that Must Be Abolished.” Somebody once handed me a brand-new thermos for coffee and I inquired if they asked Gaia permission to harvest the plastic for it from the earth. They did not. I have been like this since I was six years old. I have been like this on a soul level for my whole life, just out here horrifying my parents on Christmas morning.
Moreover, on the rare occasions that I do procure new things, I go through monthslong research processes for them and then wait months before actually purchasing anything, which means there is effectively no way you are going to get me the right thing, at the right time, in the right size & color, in a way that I would actually need it. Trust me: I would have already bought it.
I am also the kind of person who imbues gifts with ungodly amounts of meaning, which means if you are going to give a gift, you need to do your research on me and make it good. Nobody, in practice, does this. They just get you stuff. They give gifts that are more about the giver than the receiver, which feels like a tremendous renunciation of possibility to me. You could give a gift that really shows you’ve been paying attention to a person and want to help them, but in practice most people just give something that they think is cool. Gifts are hard mode in this house, a validation of existing deep intimacy. I read deeply into the meaning behind why you are getting me something, even if you personally ascribed none.
And so the shorthand answer, the one that I have told literally everyone for my entire life, is to buy me consumables. Trust me, we’ll go through a bottle of good olive oil in this house. But even then, you need to pay attention to what I am consuming. I am maniacal about sourcing. You can get me “good olive oil,” sure, but my “good” bar is both high and specific, which means you need to get me olive oil that is good and likely to be used by me. It should be bottled relatively recently, from a single orchard, not flavored, not truffled (god help us), etc., or it’s just going to end up in the cooking oil stash, regifted, or tossed.
The real answer, the one I seldom tell anyone, is to show me love. I don’t get validated enough in my job or my life, and I do a lousy job of asking for it. Write a nice card that I’ll remember. Take me out to a great meal at someplace you know I love. Do me a favor. Prove me wrong when I keep saying that our society does a horrible job of taking care of one another. Or do what one of my friends did at one of my birthday parties, and cover my house in nice things that they believe about me. I took one look around my place and just about lost it. Years later, I’ve never taken any of them down.